


Going Off-Menu

by quinnlocke



Series: Recipes for Love and Disaster [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Chef Bokuto, First Meetings, Food Critic Akaashi, Getting Together, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Restaurant owner Kuroo, meet cute of extra proportons, second chapter now with smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-10-30 04:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10868985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinnlocke/pseuds/quinnlocke
Summary: While the appetizers and entree were more than could be expected, what I was most looking forward to was the dessert. Fukuro-Neko’s main claim to fame has been its dessert menu, carefully crafted by Head Chef Bokuto. I was informed by my server that the Apple tarts were the most popular and well known of all the dishes. Presentation was lovely but in the end the dessert fell just short of the hype surrounding it.“My tarts aren’t living up to their hype!”“Bro, come on, you spent over a year perfecting that recipe.”“And now I’m gonna spend another year fixing it!”When a local food critics review leaves Bokuto questioning his skills he ventures on a quest…To consume every apple dessert in Seattle...*Now with bonus NSFW chapter 2*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [livecement](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livecement/gifts), [sassygaycas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassygaycas/gifts).



> To Liv and Cas, whose enthusiasm made this go from an idea to an actual story

“I’m so sorry sir, but we are out of the Granny Smith turnovers; we usually sell out of those before noon,” the Suga of Suga Sweets—where Koutarou Bokuto had decided to finally have the mental breakdown he was heading towards—informed him when he placed his order. Bokuto felt his shoulders drop, and the sudden crash of three days’ worth of nonstop energy fell on him.

“What? No, no you can’t be sold out, I have to have one! This is my last stop and I _have_ to have one. I’m on a mission and I can’t come back tomorrow because it's not on my route and I planned these routes perfectly, you’ve got to have one left in the back somewhere. Did you check the back of the oven?”

Suga laughed and shook his head. “It would probably be burnt if that happened. I have plenty of other flavors to choose from.”

“No, I can’t, it has to be apple. My apple tarts are broken and I have to fix them. And the only way to fix them is by consuming all the other apple desserts and learning what makes them good!”

Suga stared at him open-mouthed, and Bokuto took the silence as an invitation to continue. Honestly, he was surprised at how much he was saying, and he truly wondered if somewhere along the way he had fried the part of his brain that allowed him to stop talking. “Kenji Kozushi hated my tarts! I have to fix my tarts so Kenji Kozushi can come back and enjoy them!”

“The food critic?”

“Yes, and now he probably will never come to my restaurant again and I’ll never get to meet him because my tarts aren’t worth the hype surrounding them,” he whined, laying his head on the counter.

Koutarou Bokuto was an intelligent human being. He was a college graduate, the successful head chef and co-owner of a four star restaurant, had a good head on his shoulders, and was by all accounts a stable person.

So why was he having a mental breakdown in a Seattle cafe over not being able to order a granny smith apple tart at five in the evening on a random Tuesday?

Fucking Kenji Kozushi, that’s why.

_**One Week ago….** _

_Fukuro-Neko Grill, a delivery of flavor that met almost all expectations. - Kenji Kozushi_

_**4 out of 5 stars** _

"Can you believe this?" Bokuto said, throwing the magazine at his best friend and business partner. Kuroo picked up the copy of _The Weekly Bean_ and thumbed through to the article written about their restaurant.

"Hey, this is awesome! You’ve been reading this guy’s stuff ever since Oikawa talked about hiring him. From what I remember you telling me, he’s a real stickler, and rarely gives more than three stars. We got four!"

"You don’t get it Kuroo. Read the end, right there,” Bokuto said, pointing furiously at the second to last paragraph.

_While the appetizers and entree were more than could be expected, what I was most looking forward to was the dessert. Fukuro-Neko’s main claim to fame has been its dessert menu, carefully crafted by Head Chef Bokuto. I was informed by my server that the apple tarts were the most popular and well known of all the dishes. Presentation was lovely, but in the end the dessert fell just short of the hype surrounding it._

“My tarts aren’t living up to their hype!”

“Bro, come on, you spent over a year perfecting that recipe.”

“And now I’m gonna spend another year fixing it!” 

"That is not how you were supposed to take that information,” Kuroo said with a sigh as he followed Bokuto into the kitchen and watched him pull out his recipe book. 

“Don’t you remember the bad review Kozushi wrote about Date Tea-room? Moniwa had to leave the city he was so ashamed!” he exclaimed, thumbing through the large leather binder that contained every recipe Bokuto had ever crafted, from the successful to the abysmal. Half the time, Bokuto’s best recipes came to him when he was at his busiest. He was known to exclaim loudly when the ideas hit him, and was often fidgety until he could write them down.

“Moniwa’s wife was offered a promotion and they moved to New York; he didn’t leave Seattle in shame.”

“He left in shame!”

***

“That’s it! I am forcing you to take some of your vacation time, Bo,” Kuroo declared after three days of Bokuto causing mayhem in his own kitchen. The fire had been the last straw, though In Bokuto’s defense he’d had it completely under control; the flames were meant to be three feet high.

“What?!”

“I mean it, Konoha already texted me back and said he’ll pick up your shifts. I’ve been meaning to have Komi train as his back up anyway, so it works out for everyone.”

“This is my kitchen, Kuroo! I am the head chef and… what are you doing? Who are you calling?”

“Your moms.”

“Nooooooooooo!”

Moriko Bokuto was at Fukuro-Neko in less than ten minutes after getting the call from Kuroo. Bokuto had holed himself in his office once Kuroo revealed his intentions. 

“Koutarou, open this door,” she said softly, her fingers barely making a sound as she knocked.

“Kaachan, I am a grown man. If I want to lock myself in my office, I am allowed to do so.”

“Koutarou, do not make me call your mother; I swear I will do it.”

The door opened slowly and Bokuto shuffled out with hunched shoulders. “You wouldn't.”

“I would.”

“You’re supposed to be the stern one, every Japanese mother on TV is.”

“That is stereotyping and I will not have it. You’re coming home, your mother and I are going to spoil you for a few days, and then you’re going to come back to work with a fresh perspective and you’re going to stop trying to send your best friend to the mental hospital with the amount of stress you are putting him through.”

“I’m not talking to him,” Bokuto said, looking down at the floor. “Calling you was a low blow.”

“Koutarou!” Moriko barely raised her voice and the sound made everyone in the kitchen flinch simultaneously. “Hug Kuroo and tell him you will see him in a week.”

And so he spent two days being spoiled rotten by his moms, Moriko and Juniper. It was hard to think about his troubles so long as they kept him distracted, and they’d had years perfecting the technique. Juniper had raised him to be a free spirit, to love openly, and to follow his dreams. Moriko gave her son her culture by way of cooking—an influence that would one day be the cornerstone of his restaurant. Bokuto often joked that two moms meant double the smothering, but in truth he was a loving and doting son who bought his mothers a house on Puget Sound when profits on his restaurant rolled in. The very house he was supposed be in, relaxing and not thinking about Kenji Kozushi and his own supposedly flawed apple tarts.

He had managed to convince his mothers that two days of their love and smothering had been more than enough to quell the anxieties he felt over the review, and that he wouldn’t try to change anything else in the restaurant. Rather, he would spend the next five days coming up with new ideas to add some life to his menu.

He knew he could use a break; he hadn't had a proper vacation since he’d graduated from culinary school. He'd sent his moms on a cruise two years in a row yet hadn't bothered to take more than two days off in a row for himself. It reminded him more and more how Kuroo had no right to send him on a sabbatical when he hadn’t taken any time off himself, either—though Bokuto knew the reason why. Kuroo had buried himself in the restaurant to cover the pain he felt at losing his mother. Bokuto had buried himself in the restaurant because he wanted to support Kuroo, and honestly he didn’t have much else going for him—not that he considered this to be a problem. He had known the restaurant life would require a large amount of his time and energy. 

Bokuto, in the end, was a perfectionist and a stubborn one at that. He spent a day on his laptop searching for every bakery, cafe, and sweet shop in Seattle and mapped out a route that would allow him to visit each one over the span of four days. His mission: to try every apple dessert in the whole of Seattle until he figured out what could be done to fix his own. His plan had been going smoothly. He got to walk around parts of the city he’d never seen before and experience the wonderful food they had to offer.

In hindsight, he should have realized he was headed for a crash the morning of his eventual breakdown. He’d slept through his alarm, something he never did, ever. He attributed it to the achiness in his limbs and not that he’d been surviving on apple-based desserts, street food, coffee, and—out of spite for Kuroo—Red Bull.

Waking up late meant he had to adjust his route slightly because the Google page for Suga Sweets stated they were at their busiest between 8am and 12pm, the clock stated it was 9 and that meant he wouldn’t get there until 9:30 if he walked. So instead he changed his route to allow Suga Sweets to be his final stop. He grabbed two Red Bulls from the fridge—he had bought an entire case—and made his way out the door, ignoring the fact that his heart rate was just a wee bit faster than normal that morning.

He got to Suga Sweets around five in the evening and stood in a short line. The bakery was quiet; only two people were in the little seating area, one of them reading, the other typing something their laptop. A tall redheaded man with a sleepy expression smiled at him from the kitchen area behind the counter and Bokuto felt like it was the perfect end to the evening—until of course Suga, as his nametag proclaimed, sent his world crashing around him.

He could hear Suga and what he assumed was the redhead from the kitchen talking to each other in hushed tones. Something about having seen an energy crash before, all the signs are there, remember me in law school. Bokuto let out a pitiful whine before trying to pull himself back up again. He slowly contemplated how best to remove himself without further embarrassment when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go, I’m sorry I shouldn't have...oh.”

The face looking back at him was probably hands down the most beautiful one he’d ever seen. 10/10 would happily look at again and again. Dark curls framed a long face, green eyes so dark they almost looked black, and what could only be described as the softest smile in existence. “I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear. Are you going to be ok?”

Bokuto wanted to say something smooth like, ‘I am now that you're here,’ but his tongue was currently ignoring his brain and all he could do was shake his head. The kind stranger tilted his head and asked. “Do you need someone to talk to?”

Bokuto felt his lower lip quiver and his eyes welled with tears. “Yes,” he replied with a whimper. He allowed himself to be led to the table the stranger had been occupying. The open laptop indicated he’d been the person Bokuto noticed earlier when he walked in. The other patron briefly looked up before brushing his parted brown hair out of his eyes. He took note of them momentarily before returning to his novel, the scene obviously bearing little effect on him.

Suga came by briefly to clear the empty plate and cup that sat on the table. “More tea?”

The stranger turned to Bokuto. “Would you like some tea…” 

“Bokuto, Koutarou Bokuto. Yes please, tea would be nice. I've been drinking mostly coffee and Red Bull even though Kuroo says I'm banned from Red Bull, but he banned me from my kitchen so I'm having the Red Bull out of spite.”

The stranger quirked a brow at him and turned to Suga. “Two _decaffeinated_ herbal teas, please.”

Bokuto stared at his hands before looking up to see his benefactor closing his laptop and putting it away. He folded his hands together and looked up at him. “I suppose since I know your name it's only fair to share mine. Akaashi, though I guess here it's Keiji Akaashi. But I prefer Akaashi if you don't mind.”

“You're from Japan then?”

“Yes, I've only been living here for about two years now Bokuto-san,” he stammered over the name at the end.

Bokuto raised a hand and dismissed the honorific. “ _No need for that. Though I appreciate the thought behind it.”_

Akaashi’s eyes widened at hearing Japanese and a wide smile crossed his face. “ _You speak Japanese very well. How long have you been here?”_

_“I was born here. Only been there to visit once or twice. Okasan taught me Japanese so I could share something special with her.”_

_“So your parents came here before you were born?”_

“ _Okasan is from Japan._ Mom, _is from here.”_ he stated plainly and waited for a reaction. Akaashi stayed silent as he let the words make sense. But soon he nodded and Bokuto felt a weight lift from his chest. Every once in a while, revealing his background resulted in looks he didn’t want to see ever again, especially since they were directed towards his moms. Their silence was interrupted by Suga coming to the table with their tea and a plate of chinsuko. Akaashi thanked him and returned his attention to Bokuto.

“So how do we start this conversation? Do I begin with the apple turnover? Or will that upset you?”

Bokuto let out a weak laugh. “It’s going to sound so ridiculous if I explain it to you.”

Akaashi looked at his watch. “The bakery won’t close for another hour, so that’s as much time as you have to get it all out. I don’t mind ridiculous. I write for a living, so I’ve seen my share of ridiculous.”

“I decided that I needed to eat every single apple dessert that Seattle had to offer, because my favorite food critic thought my apple tarts didn’t live up to the hype surrounding them.”

“Why do you care so much what Kenji Kozushi thinks? He's just a food critic,” Akaashi mused, twirling his spoon in his cup.

“ _Just_ a food critic,” Bokuto scoffed, folding his arms. “That's like saying I'm just a chef. Kenji Kozushi might be one of the best food critics out there. He gets it, you know?”

“Gets it?”

“That food is life, food is love, food is more than just sustenance we eat to survive. He writes what I feel about the meals I cook and eat. I’m half in love with him just from reading his articles. He's amazing and I let him down.”

Akaashi began to blush and turned away briefly staring out the window. “You know, most chefs would take a review like the one you got and be happy,” he said before returning his gaze to Bokuto. “Or curse the critic and tell everyone how obviously the critic is wrong because who wouldn't love that dish.”

“I'm not most chefs.” Bokuto found himself relaxing and also found that Akaashi’s eyes were mesmerizing, especially when they were staring into his.

“Yes, I can see that now. So tell me, in this scenario where you meet the infamous Kenji Kozushi, what would you say?”

Bokuto paused and thought about it for a moment. Now that he'd been given time to think, he realized that the review had actually been a good one. Four out of five stars, and his appetizer and entree courses had been praised beyond what he could have hoped for. “I guess, thank you for the opportunity to serve you. I hope in the future I can deliver across all fields.”

“I’d be happy to take you up on that offer,” Akaashi replied and Bokuto looked up in shock. “It’s a pseudonym, Kenji Kozushi. I didn't want angry chefs tracking me down and demanding retractions. I never imagined I'd hear the name said out loud in a bakery followed by a lament such as yours.”

Bokuto stared at him open mouthed and found himself incapable of speech. “You..you...it’s you?”

“I'm afraid so… am I… not up to the expectation you built in your head?” he asked nervously. 

“Expectation?” he exclaimed, leaning forward waving his hands in excitement. “You blew every single expectation out of the water and… oh my god you are just as gorgeous as your words!”

Akaashi blushed and choked on his tea. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Bokuto laughed and settled back into his chair. “It’s really you?”

“Last I checked.”

“I can make them better,” Bokuto insisted, reaching forward to impulsively grab one of Akaashi’s hands. “I’ve been trying so many different kinds, I swear I can make them better.”

Akaashi squeezed his hand back. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“But you weren’t happy.”

Akaashi paused before pursing his lips. “I could… try them again. I won’t be able to print a retraction. But I’d try them again, if you made them for me.”

“Kuroo banned me from my kitchen… so I,” Bokuto looked up at Akaashi and a wide grin came across his face. “Would you like to come back to my apartment?”

“Very much so,” Akaashi said eagerly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything beyond this point is self indulgent smut of my OTP, enjoy

“Wanna come back to my apartment?”

“Very much so,” Akaashi said eagerly.

Bokuto was pretty sure the bakery owners gave him a wink as they walked out. He pulled up his Uber app and ordered one, catching Akaashi nervously fiddling his fingers together out of the corner of his eye. High on the adrenaline that was his pure happiness at having met the real Kenji Kozushi, he reached forward and grabbed one of his hands.

“Akaashi?”

“Yes?” he replied softly, seeming to have gone from excited to shy in mere moments.

“Am I reading this situation right? Because,” he said, giving Akaashi’s fingers an experimental squeeze, “I’d like to kiss you right now, and I don’t want to ruin things by… assuming things incorrectly.”

“You’ve only just met me,” Akaashi answered. His ears turned slightly pink, but he kept his gaze locked onto Bokuto’s. “How can you want to kiss me already?”

“Akaashi, you can’t imagine how many times I’ve thought about what I’d do if I met you. And now that I know what you look like…” he blew out a whistle, “Not that your appearance changes what I already thought. It’s just… you’re-, god, you’re beautiful, Akaashi. In more than just your face.”

“There you go again,” Akaashi said, blushing, “You’re too much… but… you wouldn’t be reading things incorrectly.”

Bokuto grinned, pulling Akaashi to him and wrapping an arm around his waist. He stroked a finger over Akaashi’s cheek before leaning in close enough to feel Akaashi’s breath ghost across his lips before closing the gap between them.

Akaashi’s lips were soft, and he could taste the ginger from the tea he’d been drinking earlier. His heartbeat thudded in his chest as Akaashi whimpered against his lips, and he tightened his grip.

“Wow,” he whispered, pulling away, “That, that was incredible.” He pressed his forehead to Akaashi’s and let himself be drawn into a dark gaze, full of want.

“More,” Akaashi demanded, gripping the back of his head and pulling him forward. He sucked on Bokuto's bottom lip before tugging on it with his teeth. Bokuto groaned, feeling a surge of want go straight to his groin. 

“Fuck... Akaashi,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Feed me dinner first,” Akaashi quipped back, skimming his fingers over the shell of Bokuto’s ear. 

“Ahem,” interrupted a female voice behind them, “So, should I circle around the block?”

A blonde woman with multiple piercings leaned out of her car window and gave them a knowing grin. “Sooner you get in the car the uh, sooner you can get back to what I can only imagine is very pleasant.”

They both smiled at one another before walking towards the car. Bokuto opened the back door for Akaashi and offered a hand to help him step in. Akaashi shook his head at the gesture, but accepted it nonetheless. They sat in silence as their driver brought them to Bokuto’s apartment, their hands clasped together. Occasionally, Bokuto would give him a gentle squeeze, like he was reminding himself the other man was actually there. Once when he did, Akaashi leaned over and pressed his lips to Bokuto’s cheek softly before resting his head on his shoulder.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Saeko, as the app informed them, said, pulling up to the building, “Have a pleasant evening! Be safe, enjoy, and thanks for the brief show.”

Bokuto kept his fingers linked with Akaashi’s as they walked into the lobby. He nodded to the few neighbors he knew before stepping into the elevator. It wasn't until they’d entered Bokuto’s apartment and removed their shoes that Akaashi finally spoke up.

“I was very forward before, Bokuto, and I hope you weren’t put off by it. It's been quite some time since I’ve been with anyone. I got ahead of myself.”

Bokuto twisted his bottom lip between his teeth, “You weren’t too forward. I’m in the same boat. The whole chef thing doesn't leave me much time for ya know, stuff.”

“I don’t imagine it does.”

“I mean, I do want to cook for you if you’d still like that. Anything else, we'll… just see how the night goes?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“See, I could just make you something I know I’m great at, but if you’re a little more of the adventurous type…”

“Go on.”

“Well, I’ve got this book of recipes that I come up with, just little ideas I have. But people at the restaurant have gotten kinda tired of tasting them just because I keep feeling like I should change stuff, or improve them. Or just add little things to bring out that… that-” he said with a snap of his fingers, searching for the word.

“Final bit of flavor?”

Bokuto grinned wide. “Yeah!”

“I rather enjoy food, as you can see with my writing. If you wanted to try a recipe, I wouldn’t mind becoming your taste tester.”

“I need to kiss you again!” he announced happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet towards Akaashi before stopping short. “Yeah, that’s uh, a requirement.”

Akaashi smiled and gazed at Bokuto through his lashes.

“Please do.”

***

Akaashi sat at the little breakfast bar in Bokuto’s kitchen and watched the man stare down the fettucine in front of him as though he could will it into giving up its secrets.

“Something is missing, I know it!” Bokuto stated adamantly. The four bowls of pasta in front of him, each slightly different from the other, had yielded none of the results he was looking for. The attempt was an alfredo style sauce that was light and and yet still yielded a cheesy flavor. He’d successfully built the base of the sauce by implementing creamed corn, and yet none of the cheeses he’d used brought out the flavor he desired.

“Perhaps you need to figure out the other components of the dish. Yes the creamed corn and cheese have a lovely flavor, especially with the pepper jack. But then it falls flat. It needs something to make it…” Akaashi snapped his fingers looking for a word.

“Snap,” Bokuto said, excitedly clapping his hands together, “It needs crunch!”

Bokuto ran over to his fridge and popped open the crisper drawer. 

“I’ve got bell peppers, scallions, some zucchini, and ok that was a lemon and I am pretty damn sure it's from last year, yuck!”

Akaashi laughed. “Bell peppers, I think. Not green though. Red, yellow, maybe orange if you have it.”

Bokuto held a bag out in front of him like it was toxic waste and promptly dropped it into the garbage. He gave Akaashi an apologetic shrug before returning to the fridge to grab the bell peppers. 

“I’ve actually got red and yellow. If this works, we’re gonna do this again and add orange ones too cause I think you are onto something.”

Bokuto started to julienne the peppers, and circled back around to the conversation they had been having before the taste testing began. 

“So you went to college here, went back home only to come back again?”

“Yes, I discovered some things about myself in college that my parents were not overly fond of.”

“You find out lots about yourself in college,” Bokuto noted, adding the red peppers to a bowl and starting on the yellow. He handled the knife like he was born with it attached to him.

“Well, I was told to either be the son they wanted, or find my own way. So, I found my way here.”

“That’s very brave of you.”

“Hardly, I left because it was the easier option. To be brave would have been to face them down and demand to be accepted.”

“I think they’re both kinda brave, though. It takes bravery to admit you weren’t brave enough to face something.”

“I suppose.” Akaashi shrugged. Then he seemed to think of something. “It just occurred to me what else this is missing.”

“Yeah?”

“Cilantro.”

Bokuto smacked a wet kiss onto Akaashi’s cheek and then skipped across the kitchen and pulled a bundle from the fridge. 

“I just trimmed her the other day.”

“Her?”

“Sylvia, the best damn cilantro plant ever.”

“You named your cilantro plant?”

“I name a lot of things.”

“That’s intriguing.”

“Kuroo called it weird, but he’s my best friend so he gets to make that call. I don’t care really; she’s a good plant and she deserves a name. My basil plant didn’t get a name cause it didn’t grow, no matter how many times I begged it to. Sylvia was my first successful one.”

Akaashi looked over to the large window box full of greenery and took note of the vibrant cilantro plant. 

“When did you start growing your own herbs?”

“About a year ago. I’d buy fresh but they'd wilt before I had a chance to use them cause I'm usually busy. So, I looked up how to grow it on my own so I’d always have fresh stuff for my experiments.”

Bokuto heated some canola oil in a pan and waited for it to reach the right temperature. 

“Your wine looks low,” he noted.

Akaashi lifted the glass and tipped his head back to drink the last of it. 

“Can I refill yours as well?”

“Why, Akaashi, how ever did you know?”

Akaashi walked over and refilled their glasses. He set the bottle down and leaned against the counter watching Bokuto intently. “Tell me about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, I know you went to Culinary Institute in California. You opened Fukuro-Neko with your best friend four years ago. He was also a fellow graduate. You are responsible for the entirety of the dessert menu at your restaurant.”

“You can learn all of that reading some articles online.”

“I know; that’s how I know these things. I want to know you. Beyond what someone has written.”

Bokuto hummed and added the bowl of peppers to the pan, stirring them with a wooden spatula. 

“I was born and raised here. My oka-san, Moriko, came here for college and met my mom, Juniper. They were together for years. They really felt this amazing connection but… Oka-san had to go back home. She, uh, felt like she owed it to her parents to return. So she did and she got married to the man they wanted her to marry and she got pregnant with me and then… he passed away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t like to talk about it. I don’t know if she loved my father like that. But, she loved him enough to name me after him.”

“How did she end up back here?”

“After the funeral, she said she couldn’t stand being there. All the memories that kept her up at night, the talks about remarrying, all of that reminded her that she never took a chance and that she thought if she stayed,” he paused and gave the pan a good toss, watching the peppers jump and land perfectly back into the hot pan. “I’d end up just like her... making decisions based on what everyone else wanted for me. So, she sent mom a letter. Told her she was coming back to the States to have her baby and that she didn’t expect anything from her, but she hoped that they could see each other again.”

“I guess she got that and more,” Akaashi smiled, sliding his fingers over the cool marble of the countertop.

Bokuto’s hearty laugh echoed through the kitchen. “Mom met her at the airport and took her back right there and then. Said she didn't care, that they would figure things out, that she loved her no matter what. And so, when I was born I already had both of them waiting for me.”

“They love you very much.”

“Sometimes a little too much,” Bokuto griped while adding salt and pepper. “Mom is a hippy, full blown flowers in her hair, love everyone hippy. But she’s tough you know. She’s the one who grounded me, kept me in line, but also never once made me feel like I didn’t belong to her. Oka-san, she’s soft; so soft, if you ever looked at a painting of flowers that would be her. She kissed my boo-boo’s, taught me how to cook, and kissed me good night until the night I left for college.”

“They sound wonderful,” Akaashi smiled, “Perhaps someday I could meet them?”

“Oh totally! Are you kidding? You think I’m letting you go?”

“I have to go back to my apartment eventually,” Akaashi replied dryly and laughed at the pout Bokuto gave him in response. “You are ridiculous.”

‘Yeah, but you’re here, aren’t you?”

“I am, and growing to enjoy it more and more.”

Bokuto grinned and pulled the peppers from the pan and returned them to the bowl. Dividing it into even fourths, he tossed them into the bowls of fettucine on the counter and topped each one with chopped cilantro. He held up a fork of the pasta tossed with Monterey Jack and held it out for Akaashi to taste.

“Tease,” he said as Akaashi licked the fork before putting it into his mouth, “Well?”

“It’s good, but I can guarantee the pepper jack is going to be the winner.”

“I guess we’ll have that one next.”

Bokuto held out the fork and Akaashi closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Bokuto slipped the fork in and waited patiently. Akaashi let out a pleased hum and swallowed. 

“Told you, the pepper jack is the clear victor.”

Bokuto held out the fork to Akaashi and waited to be fed as well. He let the flavors burst in his mouth and smiled. 

“Stay here and try all my crazy ideas.”

The fork dropped to the counter and Akaashi’s hands slid up Bokuto’s arms to cradle his face. Bokuto smiled and leaned forward in expectation at what was to come. They kissed softly, gentle pecks that started to become longer and more desperate as Bokuto pushed Akaashi back against the counter. Not content with their positions, Bokuto lifted Akaashi up easily and planted him on the counter before hungrily devouring his lips, while Akaashi’s legs hooked around his hips, pulling him in closer. Bokuto dug his fingers into Akaashi’s hips, his thumbs brushing over the bit of skin exposed as his shirt lifted. The calluses on his hands made a stark contrast against the smoothness of Akaashi’s skin and he reveled in the sensation, pulling away with a gasp.

“Bokuto, I want…” he panted.

“Yeah?” he breathed, wavering on the edge of combustion.

“I want… you.”

Bokuto looked down the hall and then back to Akaashi, a knowing smile crossing his face.

“Bedroom?”

“God, yes.”

Bokuto pulled Akaashi forward and hoisted him over his shoulder. 

“I don’t wanna be rough, but if I don’t get you into that bed, we’re gonna end up doing this in the hall.”

“I’m not complaining,” Akaashi replied with a chuckle, “Manhandle me all you want.”

“You like this, don’t ya?”

“More than I am willing to admit out loud.”

His heart beat increased in an instant and he nearly lost his grip before he sat Akaashi down gently and caressed his face. Staring into the depths of his eyes he took a deep breath and kissed him tenderly on the cheek.

“I’m all mixed up over you. I wanna hold you, touch you, kiss you, just be with you. But… I wanna do it right. Is this... Is this gonna go somewhere?”

“I said I wanted to meet your moms and you said you didn’t want to let me go,” Akaashi whispered, palming Bokuto’s cheek and rubbing their noses together, “I like you. It’s sudden yes, but… I can’t help what I am feeling anymore than you can.”

“Go slow, yeah? I still wanna touch you, just we’ll start slow?”

“Yes, slow, just please, kiss me again.”

“That I can definitely do.”

He scooped Akaashi back into his arms and laid them both down on the bed. They kissed softly and slowly. Akaashi ran his hands down Bokuto’s chest and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over the man’s head. Bokuto shook his hair out of his face and gasped as Akaashi took one of his nipples into his mouth and sucked on it.

“Mmmmm fuck,” he moaned, his back arching. His hands shook as he reached for the buttons on Akaashi’s shirt, fumbling with each one before finally muttering a quick apology and pulling… _hard_. He swallowed Akaashi’s protest with his mouth and pressed him deeper into the mattress. 

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“I’ll just steal one of yours.”

Akaashi wrapped a leg around his hips and pulled his groin flush with his own, pressing up into him to gain friction. Bokuto grinded back, savoring the moans Akaashi let out when he felt them move against each other.

“Yes,” he whispered, nibbling Akaashi’s ear, “Tell me what you like.”

“God just, please touch me everywhere I don’t care just I need your hands on me please.”

Bokuto unbuttoned Akaashi’s pants and lifted his butt off the bed with one arm, smirking at the aroused gasp from the other man. He gripped the hem and pulled them down his legs, slipping his socks off afterwards. He kissed his way up from his ankles to his thighs, making Akaashi blush and groan. He fingered the bottom of Akaashi’s boxers and teased the skin underneath. 

“I want to taste you Akaashi,” Bokuto whispered against the hard bulge straining against fabric, “May I?”

“Please,” Akaashi urged him, twisting his hands into the sheets. 

Bokuto peeled his boxers down gradually, savoring the way Akaashi’s hips bucked forward, looking for more. He pressed his hands into his hips, stilling him momentarily before taking just the head of Akaashi’s cock into his mouth and sucking.

“Oh fuck!” Akaashi cried out, straining against the weight that was Bokuto’s hands pinning him down. He brought a hand to his mouth and bit down, feeling the pain mix in with the pleasure. Bokuto slid his hand up Akaashi’s chest and stroked under his jaw, tipping his face down to look at him. Their eyes met and Bokuto moaned at the sight of Akaashi’s pupils blown wide in arousal. His hair in absolute disarray.

“You have to stop or… I’m going to… please not yet.”

Bokuto replaced his mouth with his hand and caressed the shaft of his cock. 

“So much for taking it slow,” he said breathlessly, laughing a little. Akaashi laughed with him, leaning forward to grab at the waistband of his track pants. 

“Off,” he demanded, and Bokuto soon complied. He let Akaashi lead him to kneel on the bed and they both took in the sight of one another. Akaashi was slim with firm muscles along his arms and legs while Bokuto was broad with toned arms from kitchen labor. 

“You… are a work of art.”

“I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful Akaashi, but this,” he said in awe. Bokuto pulled Akaashi flush with his body and kissed his collarbone before sliding his lips under his jaw. “So beautiful, I want you.”

“Take me please.”

“In what way, baby? Tell me.”

“Behind, between my… intercrural. While you stroke me,” he eked out.

Bokuto reached over and grabbed a bottle of lube from his bedside table. Akaashi took the bottle from him and poured a generous portion on his palm. Bokuto let out a guttural sound as he felt Akaashi finally touch his cock. His hand was soft and warm, his grip perfect. It took all his willpower not to give in and come on the spot. Akaashi slowly stroked his hand along Bokuto’s cock twisting his fingers just a little when he reached the thick head. Face rapt with concentration, he brought their lengths together and slowly stroked both of them. 

Bokuto wrapped a hand around the back of Akaashi’s neck and pulled him into another searing kiss. It was nothing compared to when Akaashi’s nimble fingers hit just the right spot on his aching cock, making him break their connection to let out a husky moan.

Suddenly determined, Akaashi then pushed Bokuto back, shifting to sit on his lap, pressing his back against him. He slid Bokuto’s cock between his thighs, the heated skin encasing the length tightly. Bokuto worked his hand up Akaashi’s thigh, a teasing grin playing on his lips before he wrapped his hand around the other man's cock. Akaashi whined lowly and began canting his hips, running into the broad chest behind him every time he shifted back. Bokuto felt himself slide between the heaven that was Akaashi’s muscled thighs and thrusted forward eagerly.

“Akaashi, fuck, feels so good.”

“Call… call me Keiji, please. Say it, please.”

“Keiji,” he whispered in his ear. He ran his lips over Akaashi’s neck and bit down hard enough to elicit a cry. He stroked Akaashi in tune with his thrusts, biting and kissing every bit of skin he could reach. Akaashi’s thighs tightened around his member as the man himself shuddered. 

“Fuck!” Bokuto cried out, falling backwards, holding Akaashi tight against him as he felt his mind go blank and his body shake. 

When he came back down from his high, he rolled them to lay on their sides and nuzzled the back of Akaashi’s head, humming happily. 

“You can wait to go home until tomorrow, right?”

Akaashi nodded in answer and brought his hand up to stroke through Bokuto’s hair. “You… still owe me dinner,” he declared breathlessly, “Though, I did enjoy having dessert first.”

Bokuto laughed and rolled Akaashi to lay on his back. He kissed him gently and rubbed their noses together, sighing happily at the warmth that spread from his chest to his toes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was my first smut ever and my god I can tell you that writing smut is hard.
> 
> I can do angst, comedy and fluff. But smut, that takes so much more work and I give so much credit to the people out there who do it consistently within their fics.
> 
> Special thanks to RT and Avery, seriously you guys are amazing and I love you for helping me with this. This never would have seen the light of ao3 without your patience and input. So again, thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> As promised the Bokuaka half of the story.
> 
> I have no idea where the idea for eating all the apple desserts came from, but I can only imagine it was tasty.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around and waiting patiently for this. I have had a lot of fun creating this AU.
> 
> Find me on tumblr and scream with me about these volleydorks! quinnlocke.tumblr.com
> 
> As always my deepest thanks must go to broody, whose tireless effort makes sure I sound much better than I really am. Even if she has to remind me frequently that semicolons exist.


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